Yuan Yue hung overhead.
The silent forest was bathed in an ocean of moonlight, and ripples of blue shadows shimmered upon this sea—stars, the moon, wave after wave of memories etched deep within the heart.
After a brief disturbance, the church fell silent once more.
All around, there was not a sound, save for the chirring of insects and the endless sigh of the wind.
As people drowned in this sea of stillness, even their own breathing seemed unbearably noisy.
This ocean called moonlight seemed to know every story that took place at night—from beginning to end, from joy to pain, from the depths of the human heart, spreading into the depths of one’s gaze.
People were swept up in this sea, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. Quietly, moonlight crept up beside those drowning in its depths, whispering into their ears the many experiences they’d once lived through—whether cheerful, sorrowful, too shameful to recall, or long since forgotten…
At this moment, the witch still lay fast asleep atop the eaves, while inside the church, Moezhi and Siltuya sat wordlessly on one of the pews, quietly waiting for dawn to arrive.
Moezhi held Windsor’s cold body in her arms, her eyes clouded, a hand ceaselessly stroking Windsor’s cheek.
Siltuya sat beside her, arms hugging her knees, curled up on the bench, stealing glances at the person by her side.
Watching her carefully tend to the one in her embrace, an unspoken emotion bubbled up from Siltuya’s heart.
She knew, as the Saintess, she ought not to feel such things.
The world believed that Saintesses were to be symbols of sanctity and purity; they were forbidden to form friendships, much less fall in love, for those things carried selfish motives. Their hearts were to be divided equally among all things in the world, treating both the good and the wicked without distinction.
But if not even a trace of selfishness was permitted, then what of this jealousy in her heart?
As she watched Moezhi’s hand continue to stroke another, Siltuya’s fingers tightened.
“She must be really important to you, Teacher…”
In the quiet church, the girl’s clear voice suddenly rang out.
She bowed her head, pressing her face to her knees, staring unblinkingly at Moezhi.
“She is very important.”
Moezhi replied with just those four words, but her firm tone made Siltuya’s heart ache all the more.
“That’s… quite fortunate, isn’t it.”
She murmured softly, but Moezhi did not catch it and asked in confusion, “What did you say?”
“Nothing…”
Siltuya turned her face away, hiding the emotions in her eyes.
“Teacher, do you truly not remember what happened before?”
“I don’t. Or rather, there isn’t even a memory in my mind of ever meeting you.”
“I see.”
Not remembering… perhaps that’s for the best.
She raised her head again, gazing up at the full moon through the broken skylight.
Even after all this time, the moon remained the same—cold, silent, and utterly unfeeling.
The frigid wind, carrying moonlight, blew in through the skylight.
Facing the wind, she let the ocean of moonlight engulf her. Immersed in it, it seemed as if someone was whispering in her ear.
Whose voice was that? What was it trying to say to her?
But the wind was too loud. No matter how she tried, she just couldn’t hear…
The icy wind howled, and the snowy mountains stretched on without end.
This land of ice had never known the turning of the seasons, only winter—endless, boundless winter.
Here was the Land of Ultimate Winter. The world believed the winter snow drifted out from this place, and the cold winds, too, were blown from here across the globe.
Yet, even in this place where snow almost never ceased, a tribe had dwelled here for countless generations.
They were the Extremely Cold Tribe.
Within their tribe, laughter and merriment could not be heard, nor the relaxed chatter after meals—only the sharp, biting wind wrapped around the entire settlement.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, the tribe was ablaze with light. Braving the ever-falling snow, one could see torches moving through the dark—carried by the elders of the tribe.
Each elder held a torch in one hand and led a girl by the other, each around twelve years old.
These children wore thick padded jackets, their tender cheeks flushed red from the cold, their noses blooming like crimson plum blossoms. Even their lashes were dusted with snowflakes, but the elders resolutely led them forward through the snowy night.
They were brought to a great bonfire and seated in rows, encircling the flames.
After leading them here, the elders left, leaving only the children sitting there.
No one knew how long they sat. The children’s cheeks turned purple with cold; some could endure no longer and began to cry.
But even then, no one came to take them away.
At last, the children began to collapse one after another. Only a few remained, huddled close to the fire that had burned out completely, trying to find some warmth in its ashes.
“Jingle, jingle.”
Suddenly, the crisp sound of a bell rang out.
Amid the heavy snow, a figure flickered in and out of sight.
Through blurred vision, only a dark silhouette could be seen, watching from afar.
But after only a moment, the figure turned away and vanished into the vast white expanse.
“Not this year, either?”
“It still didn’t work…”
After a while, the elders finally returned to collect the children.
They paid no heed to the near-frozen children, only sighing endlessly, unable to hide the disappointment on their faces.
An elderly man, white-haired and frail, shook his head and lamented, “It’s been nearly a hundred years since we last had a Saintess. What are we supposed to do if this goes on?”
“All the children who meet the criteria are here. If it still won’t work, then there really is nothing more we can do.”
Another elder sighed as well, worry etched on his face.
But then, someone spoke up, “It seems… we’re still missing one?”
His words lit a spark of hope in everyone’s eyes.
Someone asked excitedly, “Quick, who is it?”
“It’s… the Saint Lord’s daughter, Siltuya Lehti.”
At this, everyone’s hope faded again.
Someone even sneered, “It could never be her. She’s so arrogant and unruly, so full of herself. How could the Ritual Master ever choose her?”
“That’s true… But still, you never know, do you? She is the prettiest of all the children here, after all.”
“But—”
“Oh, I already said it’s impossible! No matter how pretty she is, that temper of hers would never be favored by the Ritual Master. Who knows, that brat is probably off picking fights with someone right now!”
“Pa, pa…”
A rush of footsteps echoed down the wooden corridor.
A pair of rosy little feet pounded quickly over the floorboards. She blocked someone’s path, hands on her hips, shouting, “Hey, you weirdo! I’m talking to you! Didn’t you hear me!”